Give me time Burn me out
by Ayingott
Summary: A storm rages around him, winds chill him to the bone and rain drenches him in ice. But it's ok, everything is ok now. G has Yamamoto next to him and that is all that matters. Yamamoto/G


**Disclaimer: Ayingott owns nothing.**

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**Give me time. Burn me out.**

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A storm rages around him – cold, unforgiving and cruel. It does not spare, it does not care. It destroys and rampages like a child, curses those who do not fear it and tears to pieces everything that displeases it. Rain wraps around the lightning that shatters the sky and ground as equals. It tries to smooth it out, it tries to let it know that everything is ok, that everything is not yet decided and done.

G looks at the flashes through his soaked hair, red eyes dull and lacking something important. He's been here for a while, simply staring into the fight of life and death above him, the cold desperation lashing out on his body. He didn't care though. He simply stared up into the darkness above him – making wishes like raindrops that hit his face.

Those words would never be taken back. The hurt never mended. The wounds will not yet heal. They were fresh and recent and stung like salt on a small cut in the tip of a finger. His fault, it was all his bloody fault. If he had just kept his mouth shut for once and allowed the peace to linger for a while longer.

His insecurities, his fear, his nightmares that lurked into the shadows of his sleep and haunted G even after waking up. Words hurt more than flesh against flesh, a blade of a sharp knife cutting into skin – he knew it, he knew it all too well.

And yet G was the one to crumble under the happiness that seemed to devour him whole. It was too good to be true, he told himself over and over again. Lies, all white and innocent lies that turned to tar in the end of the day. He was a broken man, a man with no home and only a shattered soul to love someone else.

A scream tears its way out of his throat, past his lips dyed in red, red blood and mixed with the thunder above him. A melody of despair, a song of the fallen and desperate. G was a fool. A fool and coward. His past was the past, not the present and not the future still wrapped in mist and mystery. He should have learned to let go.

But letting go was never easy.

"G! G, where _are_ you?" Yamamoto's voice slithers through the roar of the storm and the whispers of lightning. It was quiet, barely there and weak, desperation and fear clear even in the whisper-like sound. "G, answer me!"

He takes deep breaths, barely holding on to his mind. Should he run again? Should he stay? There was a storm in his heart, a storm as destructive as the one that howled around him and a storm as violent as the wind that danced between the rain and thunder. His legs don't move though. They are frozen in place and all G can do is wait for Yamamoto to find him, to see him like this – ugly and just a little bit more broken then before.

It doesn't take long for him to be found. Not long at all.

Relief is what G sees in his lover's eyes but fear still lingers there, at the very edges of the man's face. "Thank god I found you. G, there is a s_torm _going on right now, please come back. We can't stay out here." He says and his voice lacks the usual cheerfulness, only worry is left. This was not the Yamamoto that G knew and it was all his fault. His damn fault.

"I can't. Can't go, not like this. Fuck." G whispers back, the sound swallowed by the roars of the winds and his lips move with no sound. Like a silent movie that is about to end. "I—Just leave me." He finally screams over the storm, desperate.

"What are you even talking about? I can't just leave you here! G!" Yamamoto steps three steps forward, shoulders stiff and eyes the color of melted copper – determined and boiling with something that G couldn't name. Or maybe he didn't want to.

G steps back, nearly stripping over a branch that had been thrown there by the wind. He looks around, lost and unable to understand what is going on, strands of his hair sticking to his face and cold seeping into his body. He couldn't go back, not after the things said and done. Not like this, not now. Not when he felt like there was a hole in his chest, hollow and a painful reminder about things that should be better left unsaid.

Suddenly there are warm fingers curling around G's arm, holding it tightly and not letting go. Hold so strong that G thinks his bones might break. There is a strength in this hold that G had seen so many times before but has yet to feel on himself, a strength that Yamamoto rarely used when together with his lover and in the walls of his home. "That was not your fault! And I will _not_ leave you here, in the middle of the storm! You could _die_!"

The words are heavy. They sting and burn deep, deeper than the cold had seeped into his body.

He looks away, red eyes wide and watching the wet ground, his body trembling both from the cold, guilt and the shadows of the past that attack him again, even when he was still awake. There are words stuck in his throat, words that he wants to say but he has no courage to. But what could he possibly say to fix this? Was there anything that could be said when you are standing in the heart of the storm and trying to run away from the blackness that is about to eat you?

"I… Takeshi, I just can't. Not afte—Not after what I said and did." G uses his free hand to cover his face, to hide the shame that had painted itself in his eyes. He didn't want to be seen like this. This was too pathetic, too pitiful. Weak.

"That was not your fault. They were the ones who started it, with all that talk about useless people and street kids. You just defended yourself." Yamamoto's words were soft, almost swallowed by the storm the second they were past his lips. But they still reached G. Just like always. The hold on G's arm did not become lighter, it grew in strength.

The redhead flinched, something that had nothing to do with the cold, but said nothing. There was nothing else he could say, somehow the words were stuck in his throat once again and sounds refused to come out. He could only stand there, shivering from the overflow of emotions and the cold rain against his skin.

So it wasn't his fault?

So Yamamoto didn't blame him?

He was allowed to do what he did? To turn his thoughts into words and shout them out, let all of them know that they were wrong and did not understand?

It was ok? It was… ok.

G's body relaxes, his breathing returning to normal and he looks at his lover. Fatigue was starting to seep into his body; the cold rain now seemed like ice and the winds no longer so distant. He was in the middle of a storm, desperately holding on to the words of his lover and praying to God for a better tomorrow. Perhaps this was the only way to sort these things. Perhaps he was being a child – rash and selfish. Nothing more than a child.

"Let's go. Let's go back, G." Yamamoto pulls him close. They now share the same warmth. Their breaths mingle and then float away to join the winds as they tear and break everything in their way. Calmness in the middle of a storm, peace so tranquil that nothing can break it – that's what they are right now, at this very moment.

He says nothing. He merely gives his body for Yamamoto to guide now, surrendering to the relief that washes over him like warmth that he had never felt before. A storm rages around him, winds chill him to the bone and rain drenches him in ice. But it's ok, everything is ok now. G has Yamamoto next to him and that is all that matters.

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**A/N: There is a beauty to this pair that can't really be put into words. I hope to write a story, an AU though, at one point where the relationship is explained better. For now I will leave you with this.**

**Ayingott out.**


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